


into the sea, you and me

by A_Hundred_Jewels



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bars, Drunkness, F/F, Humour, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Mortal AU, there are implacations, there's not exactly any smut but its implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Hundred_Jewels/pseuds/A_Hundred_Jewels
Summary: On Thanksgiving evening, Thalia finds herself in a bar by herself. Here she meets Reyna.
Relationships: Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53





	1. the lovecats

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya everyone! This is something I've been working on since November. (For some reason it took me ages). It's kind of different from the kind of thing I usually write, but it was so much fun so I hope you all like it. Also, please excuse any inaccuracies.
> 
> Also, this is completely unrelated, but one of my other fics, "Been Here All Along," which I wrote for the Six the Musical fandom, has recently reached 982 hits, which is the highest number that any fic I've written has ever gotten. I was originally planning to post this as a celebration when it got to 1K, but 982 is equally celebration-worthy! (And I waited so long to post this that I didn't want to wait any longer). I know that it is extremely unlikely that the same people who read "Been Here All Along" will see this (at the very least, because of the different fandoms), but I wanted to recognize this anyway because I'm very excited about it :) Anyway, back to the stuff that is actually relevant here. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Rick Riordan does! And I am rather grateful to him for doing so, because I love Thalia and Reyna very very much.  
> The title is from "The Lovecats" by The Cure (wonderful song). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> This is for A and S and G. I hope it makes you laugh.

The dusky air of the bar hits me as I shut the heavy door. It smells like sweat and cheap beer.

I push along anyways, sauntering through the crowded room. I keep going, making my way to the bar. I ignore everyone and everyone ignores me, but still I feel a kinship in the room, and it’s one of the only times that doesn’t disgust me. 

Ninety percent of the people in this room and I are here for one unifying reason: Thanksgiving sucks and the only way to make it bearable is to get drunk. And, when your family is so broken that an uncomfortable Thanksgiving dinner with peculiar wine isn’t an option, crap beer and a room full of strangers works just as well. 

Maybe some people can enjoy a happy Thanksgiving with a family they’re close to, but, for me, that possibility died long ago. 

If I ever had it to begin with. 

I order my drink and sit on one of the high stools, waiting. “Stairway to Heaven” is playing over the speakers. I nod along, running a hand through my short, dark hair and staring down at the knees of my black ripped jeans. If my step-mother were here, she’d tell me to “wear some real pants without holes” or “stop dressing like a boy before everyone thinks you are one.” (Which is wrong for so many reasons). Hell, if my step-mother were here she’d probably convince my father to just disown me, right then and there. She’s like that. And if my real mother were here, she;d be too black-out drunk to do anything. Just like she always was.

Just like I probably will be by the time this night is over. Not something I do often, but, like I said before, Thanksgiving sucks and requires alcohol.

By the time I get my drink, “Stairway to Heaven” has finished and is replaced by that weird song about zombies (you know, “in your heeeeeaaad, in your heeeaaeead”). I’ve downed half my drink when there's a voice at my shoulder.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

I swivel around on my stool, holding my bottle of beer like it’s a prop - necessary for aesthetic, but I don’t even know if I need alcohol to get intoxicated anymore.

This girl may be enough.

She’s tall, definitely taller than me, and , even though her face is soft right now, I can tell that she’s tough. Smirking in a way that looks regal and leaning with her elbow on the counter, she has, to say the least, enchanted me. 

Shit, I’ve definitely been silent for too long. 

“I-um-yes-sure-hi,” I stutter. Wow, Elegant. 

She laughs, flipping a long dark braid over her shoulder, I keep my eyes locked on hers

“Mind if I sit?” Her voice is lower, huskier than I would’ve guessed from looking at her. It sends shivers down my spine. 

“Not at all! Sure! Hre.” I attempt to cover up for my apparent incapability to talk like a normal person by reaching to pull a chair out for her. The chair leg gets stuck, though, and at this point I’m somewhat precariously perched on my own stool, so I quickly grab into the counter for balance. Naturally, this sudden motion causes my foot to hit the stool, sending it crashing to the floor. 

What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

“Oh my god, sorry!” I scramble off me stool, my cheeks burning as she snorts out laughter.

I suppose it’s not particularly ethereal laughter in the grand scheme of things, but honestly? Fuck the grand scheme of things. I like the way she laughs. 

“Should I really be buying you another drink?” she teases. I grin sheepishly, run a hand through my hair, probably making it stand up like a bunch of tiny trees. 

We both reach down to right the fallen stool. 

“I swear I’m not drunk.,” I say. (First normalish sentence. Good). “Or usually like thins, for that matter.”

“Guess I just bring out the best of you, then,.” she smirks at me again.

“I -yeah. Hah.” My hand shifts on the stool, accidently colliding with hers. I let go immediately (like an idiot). One side of the stool clatters against the slightly sticky wooden floor, but she steadies it quickly, effortlessly, as if she doesn’t even notice that I’m no longer holding on. My eyes slide down from her mouth to her arms and the stomach showing under her black crop to (in November? Not that I’m complaining, but --how?). I feel myself gulp a little. She’s… ripped.

I perhaps look at her biceps a little longer than is considered normal, because I’m jolted back to my senses to see that the stool has been (steadily, smoothly) righted when she steps a bit closer to me and says “so, um--”

“Yes!” I interrupt, shooting my eyes back up to hers (God she really is tall). 

Without taking our eyes off of each other, we clamber back in to our srtools (fine, I clamber and she elegantly sits). Nothing falls down.

“So - drinks?” She reaches into her back pocket. “On me?” 

For once tonight, I respond with some of my usual smooth attitude. “Sounds good.” I smile at her and straighten out my jacket. “I’m Thalia, but the way.” She smiles back and I glance down at her mouth.

“Reyna,? She replies. 

Reyna. “Queen.” (WHat? I passed Spanish in high school).

Who knew my night had this much potential?

\-----

I may end up drinking more than I intended to.

Or maybe I don’t? My brain - my brain’s not really working right now, I think.

I get drunk on Thanksgiving. That’s my thing. And I don’t think I actually drank more than I usually do. 

It just feels like I did. 

Because of this girl. Reyna. 

Maybe it’s because we’re both speaking through several rounds of alcohol, but this is the most natural I’ve felt talking to someone since my brother died in that car crash. (I told you my family was broken). 

We’ve been making fun of this song that’s playing for several minutes and I’m giddy with joy. Topsy, giggly, flirty, joy.

The song’s not even that bad. On most days, I might even remember what it’s called. Right now, though, Maroon 5 and Cardi B together are too much not to laugh at. 

“Maybe I’m baaaaaaaarely alive,” Reyna slurs. Her cup is empty, but she doesn’t seem that bothered. She’s smiling with her head lying on the counter. Without moving, she grabs my bottle of the counter and gulps down the remaining liquid. 

“Hey! I was going to drink that, you know.” I saw her shoulder (and miss). She just closes her eyes. 

“Mmph. I paid for it. And you’re drunk enough already.”

“You’re drunk enough already too,” I mumble in reply. 

“We’re both drunk enough already too.” I giggle “That doesn’t make sense.” Reyna’s eyelashes flutter open. 

“Who fucking cares anyway.” She smiles and something flops inside me. 

\-----

“Ladies,” a voice says. Reyna and I look at each other. “Ladies.” The bartender is looking at us. “We close in ten minutes.” Both of us nod as normally as we can. 

Reyna looks at me and squints. “I live a couple blocks away from here. You?”  
“I live far. Too too far.” In the moment, I’ll admit that I’m not actually sure where I live. I just feel like it’s far. (I remember a couple minutes later. It does feel kind of far). 

Sober Me is crap at planning. Luckily Drunk Me never cares much. 

Instead, I sneak another look at Reyna’s perfectly toned arms and the waistband of her red jeans. 

She pokes me. “You can come home with me tonight, if you want,” she says. “Not far.”  
I scrunch up my nose. “Stranger danger,” I say, but I want to go with her, and the skin of my arm tingles where she poked me. Reyna giggles. “Stranger danger,” she echoes.  
“Stranger danger,” I say again.  
“Stranger danger.”  
“Stranger danger.”  
“Stranger danger.” 

“Okay, what if I give you my address and you text it to your friend or something and tell them you’re going there. What do you usually do when you do this? If you usually do this.”

“Don’t remember. How are you less fucked up than me? How do you remember stuff right now?”

“Heh, don’t know. Not at all. Nobody ever asks me that.”

I still really don’t remember anything I might normally do in this situation, but Reyna’s plan seems reasonable, so I give her my number and she texts me her address, which I send to my friend Annabeth and tell her that’s where I’ll be tonight.

She responds with a “K,” which I find funny for some reason. I show it to Reyna and she finds it funny too. 

We’re standing there, laughing at my phone, when the bartender comes over agains. 

“Ladies, we’re closing now.”

\-----

Reyna puts her arm around me as we stumble through the door. She’s put this black and purple flannel on over her crop top, but it’s past midnight and the temperature has dropped even lower than it had been mere hours ago. From where I’m tucked under her arm, I can feel Reyna shivering. 

“Take my jacket,” I say to her.  
“But-but you.” She looks down at me with a small frown.  
“I’ll take your flannel, then. And you’re bigger, so you can keep me warm.”

My jacket almost doesn’t fit Reyna. I’m no that much smaller than her, but I’m less muscular, and her arms are a little longer. In the pale light of the moon, I can see the fabric of my jacket pulled smooth over her biceps. The sleeves stop just short of her wrists. Even still, she zips it all the way and pulls up the collar. 

Reyna’s flannel is noticeably less warm than my jacket, but it’s not too bad. Reyna keeps her arm around me for a bit, then announces that we’re turning onto her street and also can she give me a piggyback ride?

I say yes, because I’m cold and tired.  
“Be careful,” I say. 

“Careful of what?” I don’t know what there is to be careful of. It’s midnight in the city, so I feel like there must be something to be wary about. I can’t think of what, though. So I don’t say anything. Reyna adjusts me on her back and I lean forward, wrapping my arms around her neck. 

Somehow, Reyna walks faster when she’s carrying me than when she was walking next to me. I almost don’t want to look where we’re going, in case it’s like one of those crash scenes in a movie and I, like, have to watch in slow motion as we crash into a wall and there’s blood everywhere and the crunching of bones and there’s a siren in the background and Beethoven’s playing some really low ominous notes… 

“We’re here.”

I slide off Reyna’s back before we walk through the double doors of her building. 

It smells like mothballs, but it’s warmer that it was outside, so I’m not complaining. Reyna presses the button beside the elevator and motions for me to follow her through its heavy metal doors when they open.

The whole building seems enveloped in a heavy silence, broken only by our soft breathing and the clicking and hissing of the elevator as it pulls us up to Reyna’s floor. 

We’re standing close to each other. I lean my head on her shoulder. 

I think - I think I could fall asleep. Perhaps. 

I look at the elevator’s metal ceiling. Am I tired? My mind is starting to feel clearer than it was a few minutes ago. 

The elevator chimes, stopping with a jolt. I blink, then follow Reyna into the cramped hallway.

Aside from the distant humming of a heater, everything is quiet. 

Reyna turns around, giving me a half smile. “Come on,” she takes my hand. “It’s this way.”

We hurry down the long hallway, our footsteps muffled by the thin carpet. Several of the people in this building appear to have hung turkey-related signs on their doors, which I found hilarious.

Particularly this one door, which has a sign displaying a very orange turkey shouting “Stuff me!” One look at that has me nearly falling over from laughter.

Reyna takes one look at me and snorts. “Remind me not to bring drunk girls home on Thanksgiving,” she says. 

I collapse against the wall, snorting. “Rude,” I say.

She lets go of my hand, but slides down the wall next to me. 

“You know, my apartment is literally ten feet away.”

“Stuff me,” I reply, then burst into another bout of laughter. “Stuff me.”

Again, Reyna sighs, but she’s laughing. She puts her arm around me and I lean my head against her shoulder. The fabric of my jacket on her shoulder is rough against my cheek. 

“Come back to my place,” she whispers. 

I tip my head back to look into her eyes. “What,” I say, my voice low and scratchy, “you don’t want to sit here forever?”

She rolls her eyes and drags me to my feet. I groan, but don’t protest. With one last look at the “Stuff me” poster, I follow her further down the hall, until we arrive at an undecorated door at the end. 

Reyna unlocks the door, and pushes it open. She gives me an ironic smirk. “After you,” she says.

And now I’m inside.

The very first thing that Reyna does is open the refrigerator and pull out a large, tinfoil-wrapped triangle. Sitting on the counter, she unwraps two pieces of cold cheese pizza. She stacks them on top of each other with the sides of congealed cheese touching, and takes a huge bit. 

“Are you seriously eating cold pizza at two in the morning?” I ask her, leaning against the kitchen wall in what may be a seductive manner. 

“Yes,” is all she says. She doesn’t look up, so I guess my seducing was in vain. 

“Why?” 

“Hungry. There’s more in the fridge if you want.” Ah, the eloquence of a gorgeous weirdo. 

“Sexy,” I say. “Also, I should point out that we barely know each other.”

“And yet, in the few hours since we met, we’ve gotten shitfaced, laughed at a very innocent turkey, and now you’re in my apartment. Do you want pizza or now?”

I give in and watch Reyna slide off the counter and get the pizza out of the fridge. She hands it to me, still wrapped in shiny foil, then hops right back onto the counter. 

I sit on the floor, cross-legged, and unwrap my own pizza. The taste of congealed cheese that hits my tongue is a joy and a pleasure. Even if I’m too out of it to figure out much else, I know I’m content in this moment. 

For a second, I wonder why I came here, why I left the bar with Reyna rather than calling Annabeth or Grover to pick me up, which I think is what I normally would do, no matter how much things stopped making sense. 

Wondering this doesn’t feel like self-judging, though, which feels strange for me. I judge myself all the time. Instead, I’m starting to feel more and more bewildered as my head clears.

I take another huge bite of pizza and look up at Reyna. We’ve been eating in silence for a couple minutes, and I can see that she’s nearly finished her pizza-sandwich. As if feeling my stare, she bites off a chunk of her crust and smirks down at me while she chews. 

Something like an electric current runs through my body.

I consider my options. 

Obviously, Reyna is gorgeous. And funny. And nice enough to let me, a complete stranger, crash at her place in the middle of the night on Thanksgiving.

Also her apartment’s got all these pictures of swords on the walls, which I guess is weird, but not in a bad way. 

I can leave or I can stay. At any moment, I can call one of my friends to come pick me up. I have no doubt that most of them are still awake, anyways. 

But I look back up at Reyna. She’s made absolutely no indication that I should leave. And, sure, I barely know her, but this is her place and something tells me she’d have no problem telling me if she wanted me gone. Which she hasn’t. 

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” Reyna asks. 

“Why not?”

“Dunno. Seems more of a depressed, eating-raisins-at-4pm kind of place.”

“It’s two-thirty am and we’re eating cold pizza.”

“Yes. You are. I finished mine. Come on, you can sit up here with me if you want to.”

I roll my eyes, but she’s smiling and I’m smiling with her. 

“How’d you know?” I clamber onto the counter. 

She snorts but doesn’t say anything. Just shuts her eyes and leans against the wall as I finish my pizza. 

I know that I should leave. 

I should already be out the door, because why am I here?

But I want so much to stay.

“I’m not abducting you, you know,” Reyna says after a few beats of silence, save only my chewing and what I figure is the noise of some heater. “You can go home if you want. Big night and all that. Thanksgiving. Family. Yay. I assume you’re now sober enough.”

I hesitate. Here’s where I should thank her for her kindness and leftover pizza and be on my merry way. 

“Do - do you want me to leave?” I look at her shoulder (why exactly, I don’t know, but it’s there and honestly quite worthy of any attention it receives). “If you do,” I quickly add, “that’s fine. Completely fine. Actually, probably the most logical move at the moment.”

Reyna snorts. “Had I caught you escaping family?”

I shake my head. “Just an empty apartment with drafty windows. My family… has issues.”

I look up and Reyna meets my eyes. “I,” she says slowly, “have a rather similar situation.”

I give her a small smile. She returns it half-heartedly. 

We sit in silence. Reyna takes my tinfoil without a word and starts mindlessly crumpling it into a ball. A random crumb of cheese that had been stuck to the foil falls to the floor. I stare at it, then at Reyna’s hands, then at her ridiculously beautiful arms, still straining the sleeves of my jacket. 

“You should stay,” Reyna says, her low voice splintering the air of her small kitchen. I quit staring at her biceps to meet her gaze. 

“You, uh, you don’t mind? It’s not weird?” The corner of her mouth twitches upward a little (her lips are pink).

“Yeah,” she says. “Why should two lonely women do nothing by themselves at midnight on Thanksgiving when they could do nothing together?”

I laugh, despite myself. “Well put.”

“Besides, “ her grin has turned slightly wicked, “you look cute in my shirt.”

I ignore my blush and run a hand through my hair. 

Reyna laughs, pulling her own hair over her shoulder and beginning to unbraid it. I slide down from the counter, watching her fingers weave in and out of her long dark hair. 

Soon, she too comes down from the counter and brushes past me into the living room, tapping her hand against mine as she passes by.

“So,” she says, “as two lonely women on Thanksgiving, what should we do?”

I follow her until we are standing nose to nose. My eyes flick down to her lips. Her wonderfully strong, slender fingers land lightly on my unimpressive biceps.

We stay like that for a few heartstopping seconds. The air around us tingles with anticipation, like she’s daring me to step away. 

Fuck this. 

I learn forward, kissing her with all the force I can muster, 

She pushes back and bites my lip, her hands creeping down my arms until our hands are intertwined. 

Reyna kisses me fiercely, and for some reason, I think about that zombies song that was playing at the bar. 

I sincerely hope this is not in my head. 

I’m alive, so alive. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this. 

Have I ever felt like this?

Without breaking contact, Reyna pushes me against the wall with her hands resting on my hips. Her lips brush my cheek and her knee slots between my thighs. I sigh, looping my arms around her neck. 

Reyna leans down and whispers in my ear, “Stuff me.”

I burst out laughing (probably ruining the mood). Sometimes, it just happens, you know? Leaning back against the wall and against Reyna’s arms encircling my waist, I see that she’s wearing a wide, wicked grin, like she’s been personally chosen to murder Voldemort with one of those gold swords she has a framed picture of. 

“Gladly,” I whisper, tilting my head up to kiss her again. 

Reyna takes my hand and pulls me through a door into a bedroom with several more paintings of expensive looking weaponry, as well as what seems to be a portrait of two metal dogs and a slightly ironic “No Violence” sticker stuck to the wall just above the bed. 

Reyna closes the door and faces me with all of the anticipation and excitement of a fifteen year old about to play “Seven Minutes in Heaven.” Then, in one fluid motion, she shrugs my jacket to the floor and kicks off her shoes.

Any rational thoughts that might have been sticking around in my brain are absolutely gone by now. 

I pull off my own Doc Martens and tall black socks, then collapse onto purple sheets. 

Instantly, Reyna is on top of me, her knees bracketing mine. 

“Purple?” I ask, kissing the side of her jaw. 

“Irrelevant,” she replies, but a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and I giggle because, after all, her bedspread is extremely purple. 

And then we can’t stop laughing and she sinks down on top of me.

I am aware of everywhere we are touching. Reyna’s head head on my chest with long dark hair splayed all over everything. Her arm along mine. The bare skin of her stomach leaning against my black cotton tee shirt as well as Reyna’s soft flannel, which I’m still wearing. 

I can feel our legs intertwined. Through the holes in my torn jeans, I can feel the corduroy of her pants. Where her hips touch mine, I’m aware of every particle of her warmth. 

I run my hands down her sides til they’re on her hips. She places her hands over mine, then rolls off of her me. I follow her and watch as she unbuttons her cordaroys and shoves too to the floor.

Underneath, her legs are long and goddess-like. Beyoncé worthy. 

I pull off my own jeans, though I know that my legs are far less good-looking than Reyna’s. 

She grins and kisses me again, roughly, this time with her hand sliding up my shirt. With my hands on her hips, I arch my back up towards Reyna and her abs.

Intertwined.

We are braided together like strands of blue and yellow yarn. We are one.

I was fractured; I was broken. But when Reyna kisses my neck, I am whole. 

_______

I wake up the next morning with Reyna’s arm laying across my stomach and her hair in my face. Sunlight pours through the curtains in a very uncomfortable way.

My head throbs, but not as badly as I feel it should. 

Soon, I’ll have to get up. 

Soon, I’ll have to find the rest of my clothes. 

Soon, I won’t be able to just kiss and sleep, entangled in the limbs of the beautiful girl I meet twelve hours ago. 

Soon, the day will begin.

Soon. 

But not yet.


	2. it's friday im in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later. Oh, how Reyna is smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i am adding an unplanned chapter two months later. this is either better or worse than the first one. probably worse, considering that i wrote most of it at around one in the morning several weeks ago and have not done very much editing. Oh well. I like it. 
> 
> i hope that everyone is staying safe. this is a really weird time and i go a little bit mad every time i think about it. if you need a laugh, go watch Janey Godly on youtube or twitter do voice overs of Nichola Sturgeon's covid reports (or whatever they're called). 
> 
> anyway, have a good day, and i hope you enjoy this. <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Rick Riordan. Also, the title of this chapter is from "Friday I'm in Love" by The Cure. It's kind of a weird song, but I like it.

“You know, I really don’t get erotically pinned against the wall enough,” I say breathlessly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Thalia rolls her eyes at me, but I can see the glimmer of amusement behind them.

When she kisses me again, it’s long and sweet, so that I forget about everything else that’s been lurking in the back of my mind.

I let Thalia push me further into the wall, signing as she grips my arms. 

It’s been nearly a year since we first met. 

A year since that night on Thanksgiving where I found Thalia alone in that bar and then woke up the next morning with her in my bed, intertwined with me. 

Originally, we’d decided to go out separate ways, remembering the night simply as something fun that resulted in us having each other’s phone numbers. 

It was me who texted her a week later, saying that I couldn’t get her out of my head, and would she maybe want to get a drink together sometime?

That night, it was Thalia who took me back to her apartment (though, contrary to our first night together, this time we fell asleep on her couch within a minute of walking through the door).

It was also Thalia who gave me flowers when she took me out to a real restaurant and asked me to be her girlfriend.

And now, a week before Thanksgiving, I’m going to tell her I love her. 

Because I do. Truly. 

We’re on my couch now. I’m on top of her, tugging at a hole in those black ripped jeans she likes wearing so much. (I tried wearing them once, just to see what she’d think, but the stupid things didn’t fit properly. I looked ridiculous). 

“Rey?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” Thalia looks up at me, concerned, and twirls a strand of my hair around her finger before tucking it behind my ear. 

“We can stop, if you want.”

I stop hovering above Thalia and sink down so that I’m layered against her, savouring every place we touch. “No, don’t,” I say.

I rub her calf with my foot.

“I’m fine Thals. Just, uh, Thanksgiving and all that. It’s a weird holiday.”

I can tell Thalia’s grimacing. Even though I can’t see her, I can picture it. How her small, freckled nose wrinkles and her electric blue eyes darken. 

Her arms tighten around my waist and I snake mine around her neck. 

Falling in love is weird. 

And I’m one of those really stupid people that does it. For once, though, it doesn’t feel like such a bad idea. 

I mean, it had better not be. I’m not turning back now. 

“Rey?” Thalia’s head moves slightly on my bare chest.

“Yeah?” 

“What time is it?”

“Dunno. Eleven thirty-ish, I think. Why, is tonight the night you must go electrocute Dolores Umbridge?”

“Mmph, yeah. That’s why I had sex with my girlfriend immediately beforehand. I’m wide awake now.”

I laugh and bury my face in her hair. I could tell her. I could tell her right now. Then we could fall asleep for a good long time and dream of rain and pizza and cold night air. 

Or everything could end with her throwing stuff at me and running away and out of my life. 

There can only ever be possibilities.

Thalia shifts in my arms. “Remember the first time I came here?” she whispers. I smile. 

“Of course I do.” I run my hand through her hair. “That was quite an interesting night,” I say. 

Thalia reaches up to poke me in the cheek. “Don’t worry, you were very smooth.”

“Yes, I was extremely put together that night.” I was not. I rarely am, especially on holidays. I’d had no intention of talking to anyone that night at all. It was one of those nights where I simply just felt bad about myself.

Watching Thalia walk through that door had been strange. For some reason, I just couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, no matter what I told myself. I watched her shove through the small crowd near the television and sit down at the bar. 

Eventually, I decided enough was enough and I might as well just go home. So I walked over towards the door.

Except I didn’t quite make it over. 

I just couldn’t walk past Thalia. 

Maybe I’ve been in love with her since I first saw her. 

“I’d been leaving when I came up to you,” I say now. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I spent my whole night looking at you from across the room and I thought I was being ridiculous.” My arms tighten around her. “So I was going to go. And the next thing I knew, I was standing next to you, asking to buy you a drink.”

She smiles up at me. Then, with one of her small Thalia sighs, she snuggles into me again and says, “Alright, I’m going to be falling asleep in about thirty seconds.” Her short black hair brushes my chin. 

It’s only three words. 

“I--um. Thals?”

She looks up at me again. “What? Are you alright? You were doing your silent thing earlier, too.”

“I love you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Something creaks in one of the walls. 

“Oh.” Her voice is soft. 

My breath fills the air above me, hearty and strange. 

Briefly, Thalia kisses me on the shoulder. “Love you too, Rey,” she says. “Always have and always will.” She tilts her head up and looks into my eyes. Grinning, she continues, “Not to be that person, but. You said you couldn’t walk past me. And I can’t fathom what you saw in me that first night. Unless, of course, my enchanting first impression of being the Dramatic Drunk and dropping a chair upon meeting you is actually wildly popular.”

I lean forward and kiss her, giggling. 

“You’ve uncovered my secret,” I say, and we subside into a heap, as we have before, with the sheet twisted into a corner near my foot, and the blanket haphazardly draped across us. Thalia is practically on top of me, with her arm around my middle and her head on my chest. 

Whenever I’m with Thalia, the world feels brighter, fuller. Even now, in my bedroom at night. 

The golden spear painting across the room? Magnificent. 

My purple sheets that Thalia used to tease me about? Dazzling. 

Some people say that falling in love makes you more beautiful in the eyes of the world. And maybe that’s true. I don’t know. Since I met Thalia, though, I know that, more than anything, the world has become more beautiful to me. 

“Okay, now I’m actually going to sleep,” Thalia says. “Unless you have anything else to confess.”

I smile in the dark. The beautiful, brilliant dark. “No, I think I’m out. Good night, Thals.”

“Night, Rey.”

I shut my eyes and relax against the skin of my girlfriend, who I love. 

And who loves me. 

Together, we fall asleep. Two little dots in this brighter, lovelier world that we’ve made for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you didn't find it too weird. PLEASE leave a comment. please please please. I appreciate each and every one of them. So much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments :)


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